


The Sexy Sixsome

by draculard



Category: Avenue 5 (TV)
Genre: Anal Sex, Bottom Ryan Clark, Dubious Consent, Every scifi fandom needs a sex pollen fic right?, Humor, Multi, Oral Sex, Orgy, Sex Pollen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-19
Updated: 2020-02-19
Packaged: 2021-02-28 01:08:29
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,020
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22795285
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/draculard/pseuds/draculard
Summary: Herman Judd's private supply of sex pollen somehow winds up in Avenue 5's air ducts, flooding the entire ship with a high-powered and inescapable aphrodisiac.So why is Captain Clark the only one affected?
Relationships: Ryan Clark/Billie McEvoy, Ryan Clark/Herman Judd, Ryan Clark/Iris Kimura, Ryan Clark/Karen Kelly, Ryan Clark/Matt Spencer
Comments: 5
Kudos: 32





	The Sexy Sixsome

There was no shortage of problems aboard Avenue 5. Some of them at least had the good sense and manners to occur on the bridge, where Captain Ryan Clark could deal with them with only a small audience of mostly apathetic crew members to see him freak out. Most of them, unfortunately — and that included this problem right here — had a bad habit of occurring in the open recreational area where what seemed like all passengers were constantly gathered for no good reason at all.

“What the fuck is this,” Clark said.

Beside him, Billie had covered her mouth and nose; her eyes were tracking the cloud of benign-looking dust. 

“Looks like sex pollen, sir,” she said.

“Sex pollen?”

Already, he could see his Top Four Banes of Existence approaching him through the crowd: Hermann Judd was waddling through the crowd from what Clark supposed might be called space-north, with Iris Kimura at his side, like always. From space-west, Karen Kelly was bustling his way, hair gelled and sprayed to perfection and lips pursed with preemptive outrage.

Not far behind her — and ambling rather than bustling — was Matt Spencer. Clark couldn’t be sure if Spencer was ambling toward him with a purpose or just … ambling.

“Sex pollen?” Clark said again, more urgently this time. The dust was starting to settle now, though a great deal of it still twisted in the air. Some of it got into his nose, and it was only with the greatest self-restraint that he avoided sneezing _at least_ sixteen times. “What the hell is _sex pollen?_ ”

“It’s what it sounds like,” said Billie grimly. By now, the trio of pains in the ass had arrived; Spencer was still trailing behind, looking entirely too chill.

“Yo,” said Judd with a sleazy grin, “sex pollen, am I right?”

“You know about this?” asked Clark, eyes narrowing.

“Well, duh. I’m the one who packed it.”

“The crate must have been damaged somehow,” Iris said, watching swirls of dust slowly float to the ground. “It was right next to the air ducts.”

“ _Why_?” Clark said. “Why on Earth would you put anything called _sex pollen_ next to the air ducts? And what the fuck _is_ it — can somebody _please_ tell me what it is?”

Spencer had joined the group now. He waggled his eyebrows at Clark, stopping only when he turned to Karen and caught the unamused look on her face.

That wasn’t comforting.

“Sex pollen,” said Karen in a weirdly triumphant tone. “It’s an overpowering aphrodisiac. Once you’ve inhaled it, it causes migraines, shortness of breath, fever, and bodily pain which can only be mitigated through sex. Masturbation doesn’t cut it; you gotta fuck.”

Clark surreptitiously wiped a bit of the dust from his beard and lips, where it had landed when the ducts started spitting out sex pollen five minutes ago. He could feel his skin tingling wherever the dust touched; his temples were starting to pound, as well.

But when he looked around at the others, he saw an almost suspicious mixture of amusement, anticipation, and glee.

“Well,” he snapped as an unmistakable jolt of pain went up his spine and an even more unmistakable jolt of arousal got him semi-hard, “aren’t any of you feeling it?”

“No,” said Iris dismissively.

“No?” The word came out breathless as Clark felt his symptoms ratchet up.

“It only affects actors for some reason,” said Judd with a casual shrug. “Nobody knows why. It’s science, I guess.”

Bewildered, Clark looked to Billie for confirmation. She shrugged and nodded at the same time.

“It only affects actors?” Clark repeated. He could feel sweat beading at his temples as the headache intensified and his cock stiffened, now forming a tell-tale tent in his trousers that he did his best to hide, shifting uncomfortably. “Why the fuck would you pack it, then?”

“I dunno,” said Judd. “Sexy grownup Disney stars? A-list guests taking a space cruise? You never know.”

“You packed it so you could get sexy actresses to sleep with you?” Billie said. "That's rape, dude." 

Judd turned to Iris, eyebrows raised.

“It’s kind of rape,” Iris confirmed. “Assuming you actually use it on someone.”

Incredulously, Clark loosened his collar, gasping for breath. “ _Assuming_?” he said. Pain lanced through his arms and legs, radiating out from his chest. “Christ. I’ve gotta get out of here.”

But he made no move to escape. He looked at Billie and felt his mouth inexplicably go dry. He turned his gaze to Karen and felt his cock twitch. Then, looking at Spencer — and at Judd — and at Iris — he felt the unmistakable twist of arousal and need inside him. 

He covered his face. “Oh, fuck,” he said. “Guys…”

“Sure,” said Billie, surprisingly quickly. 

“Yeah, I’m down,” said Judd.

“Not how I expected my second sixsome to go,” said Spencer, who was rubbing his palms together with a disturbing casualness, “but alright.”

Iris and Karen shared a look so dry it could only be termed disgusted. Still, when Billie led the way back to Clark’s quarters with Judd’s hand on Clark’s right arm and Spencer’s hand on his left for support, Karen and Iris fell in step behind.

“Christ,” Clark muttered, allowing himself to be dragged off to bed. “You five are _not_ my first choice for this. Has anyone seen Gary?”

Iris keyed Clark’s bedroom door open; he couldn’t be sure whether it was Karen or Judd who shoved him inside. Either way, Clark barely got his feet underneath him, his legs trembling, pain shooting up his spine and straight into his head.

Cock straining at his trousers. 

Christ, but this was humiliating. The desire for friction was so strong that he found himself palming the front of his trousers without thinking; his face flamed as he realized what he was doing and forced his hand away. He couldn’t look anybody in the eye, couldn’t even fathom that they were doing this, that he had five of his least-favorite people in his bedroom for — for —

For _this_.

God, he wanted this. He hadn’t been this aroused since he started drinking again. Maybe he hasn’t been this aroused ever. The need is so overwhelming it’s almost blinded him, turning Karen’s can-I-see-your-manager hairstyle into a sleek updo, putting fifty pounds of muscle on Spencer, and turning Herman Judd into more of an Idris Elba type — but Idris Elba before he started adding on cybernetic implants to become immortal.

So, like, super sexy. He turned to Iris and through his headache he saw someone vaguely resembling a Victoria’s Secret model. He turned to Billie and saw a smile.

“Jesus, I’m hallucinating,” Clark moaned. He folded over, putting his head between his knees (incidentally, putting his _hand_ between his knees as well, though much closer to his pelvis, where it could be put to good use). 

He felt hands on his shoulders, pushing him back against the bed. He felt gentle lips kissing their way down his neck.

And a different set of hands on his chest.

And a different set of lips biting his earlobe. Gradually, Clark cracked his eyes open, hips bucking reflexively. There were five pairs of hands on him — holding him down, unbuttoning his trousers, sliding his uniform jacket off his arms. There were five mouths on his skin, warm and tantalizing and soft. He couldn’t tell who was kissing him where, who was touching him where.

But he _definitely_ could tell which obnoxious prick was asking him, “You got any edibles? This kind of thing is _way_ better with edibles.”

“Fuck off, Spencer,” Clark groaned. His hips bucked just as Iris slid the waistband of his boxers down, letting his cock spring free.

“Ooh, hairless,” Judd said. 

“Not a big fan of hairless, personally,” Billie said. Clark squeezed his eyes shut as somebody — Karen, he was pretty sure — palmed his cock, finally giving him the friction he’d been looking for since Billie first said the words “sex pollen.”

Spencer’s lips found his nipple.

Judd’s fingers trailed through his hair, nails scratching at Clark’s scalp. 

He felt Billie’s hands on his hips, Karen’s hand on his cock, Iris’s teeth scraping at his neck. It was all too much — his nerves were singing, his entire body screwed tight with tension, his cock leaking pre-come and twitching against his will. 

Too much, he thought, gritting his teeth. Too much — and yet his muscles still screamed with pain, his chest was still tight, his head still pounded.

“ _Somebody_ fuck me already,” Clark growled, wiggling his hips again. He spread his legs, eyes slipping closed again as somebody — he couldn’t be sure whether it was Spencer or Judd — obligingly took Karen’s place.

“Needy slut, aren’t you?” said Karen smugly.

“Don’t,” said Billie.

“Yeah, don’t do that,” Iris said. Clark cracked his eyes open to glare at Karen.

“What?” she said.

“You’re not cut out for dirty talk, Karen,” Spencer said, answering for all of them. “You gotta do it like this.” Abruptly, he smacked Clark on the arse hard enough to leave a cherry-red handprint and yelled, “Ride it, bitch! Eat my fucking _dick_ , dude!”

“Ow,” Clark said.

“I’m gonna shit in your cup and make you _eat_ it—”

“ _No_ ,” said Billie, more firmly this time.

“Or we can eat it together,” Spencer amended, looking to Clark for approval.

“ _No_. Christ. This—” Clark gestured vaguely to the cock he was, in fact, currently riding. “This is fine. This is enough. No dirty talk, no — no shit-eating.”

“He liked being spanked, though,” Iris informed the others dutifully. She was still leisurely biting her way from Clark’s earlobe to his collarbone. “He likes pain.”

“I-I really don’t,” Clark gasped. Still, he couldn’t help bucking his hips when Iris bit down on his shoulder, and he couldn’t tell if it was in response to the growing hickey or to Spencer’s forceful thrusts or to Billie and Karen, who had joined efforts, one sucking Clark’s cock while the other stroked it at the base.

Judd was just kind of playing with Clark’s nipples. It wasn’t bad.

The whole sixsome thing was kind of not bad, really. Clark could feel an orgasm building up in him as the pain in his head faded away; he couldn’t concentrate on any single sensation. There were too many warm mouths, too many soft hands, too many stings and pinches to keep track of.

And of course, there was Spencer’s absolute monster of a cock currently wedged up his arse, which was rather nice, if a little bit off-putting.

It was unfortunate that Clark experienced the best orgasm of his life at the same moment Judd said, “You know, I didn’t think British nipples would taste as good as American nipples, but these aren’t half-bad.”

Clark released a long, slow breath, sinking bonelessly back onto the mattress.

"What do they taste like?" Iris asked. "Let me see."

"No," Clark said, batting her away. "All of you get right the fuck off me. Now."

"Hardly anything like tea and crumpets," Judd answered as if Clark hadn't spoken. "Almost like ... I wanna say a Kit-Kat?"

Karen scoffed, wiping what appeared to be Clark's cum off her bottom lip. "No man has Kit-Kat nips," she said. "It's a white chocolate and nougat taste at best."

"Christ," Clark said. The pain in his head was back. He could no longer attribute it to sex pollen. "Can the five of you kindly fuck off out of my room? Please?"

"He's overstimulated," said Billie decisively, ever the scientific type. "Let's get out of here."

" _Thank_ you," Clark said.

Iris abandoned the hickey on his neck, leaving his skin wet and cold. Judd stepped away from Clark's chest. Karen and Billie retreated from his softening cock and Spencer slipped out of him unceremoniously. They were all five nearly to the door when Clark realized — though he would never say so — that he almost missed them.

"Thanks for the sick sexy times, bro," said Spencer as he left. "Sorry about the clap."

Oh. Yeah, Clark thought as he stared out the window, where the corpse of Mary 2 was floating by. The headache was _definitely_ back.


End file.
